


your dreams and memories are blurring into one

by Beastrage



Series: illuminate our stories [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Post-Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance, Pre-Kingdom Hearts III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 16:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19360729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beastrage/pseuds/Beastrage
Summary: Xion wanders the night among the Dream.In which Xion is the Dream of the Endless for Kingdom Hearts.





	your dreams and memories are blurring into one

Nobodies cannot Dream. 

Oh, they may sleep and be trapped in a never-ending cycle of memories. Sleep and never be fully rested. But Dream? To truly wander the realms of Sleep? Never. 

 

Perhaps then, they could be excused for missing what walked in their midst. 

For forgetting the Dream they had dared to Dream up. 

But their Dream had not forgotten them. 

(How could she?)

  
  


There is a girl who wanders the nights quite frequently. Yet not a single soul sees her, due to her lacking physical form. 

She wanders, and she knows the Dreams. The Dreams and the Dreamers who dare Dream them up. Dances through, untouchable and glorious. 

 

What does she look like, this girl of Dreams, one might ask. Her face, her clothing, what does she look like? Everyone has a different answer, each one true and born of the heart. For a few, she looks like a lover or a close friend. Others see their worst enemy, standing at the edges of their minds. A couple even see themselves, smiling back in an odd mirror. 

Almost no one sees her as she sees herself: a small girl in a black coat, with hair as black as night and eyes as blue as forget-me-nots. 

 

The Dream-Eaters and Nightmares alike know her. Of course they do. Her appearance always signals an unbreakable truce, where both sides rush in for a quick nuzzle. For a pat on the head, a scratch under the chin, a ruffling of fur. Whatever the girl is willing to give out to both Dream-Eater and Nightmare, before heading on her way. 

Among them, it is considered one of the greatest honors to be allowed to accompany her to the Dreamers themselves. An honor worth fighting for. 

A fight that starts up once the tender touches are over, often distracting both sides enough that no one ends up following her as she walks away. 

Every once in a while, some do. And the company is always welcome. 

Yet the girl still goes out on her nightly journey, whether with company or without. She visits many. Some she knows, others she does not. But she always attempts to visit them all, before the day breaks. 

  
  


First, to a strange King of a strange Land, full of animals that speak and talk. But he is not too strange of a King, for he still worries about the normal things a King worries about. About the safety of friends, of protecting his Kingdom, of too many duties to name. The girl soothes him with reminders that he is not alone, that so many stand beside, until he rests easy once more. 

For his Captain of the Guard, his Magician, and his Queen, she does much of the same. Soothing them into gentler waters, where the ability to toppen one’s metaphorical boat lessens. 

They Dream a peaceful river and she sails on. 

  
  


A place called Radiant Garden comes second on her list. She’s often more solid there, a lingering effect of the world recently come to Light out of Dark. Nightmares are common, especially those of being lost in the Dark, of being attacked by Dark monsters, and so many more. Many have to do with the Dark. It  _ is  _ something to be afraid, after all, for these Dreamers. Nothing is more fearful than the fear already lived.

Those who live within the castle Dream more intimately of the Dark. Afraid that it might call them back, that their  _ real  _ home is that hungry, soulless decade. (Afraid that it what they want, most of all.) 

To fight back the Dark, she reminds them not of the Light, for what has the Light ever done for her, but of friends and family. Of being missed if they walked off the path. They are  _ important _ , in the way all people are.

They deserve to exist.

Her reminders are not enough, not for forever. Yet it’s long enough, for another day. Just one more day. 

She walks on, shadows trailing in her footsteps. 

  
  


Third is always the worst, the visiting of Xehanort and his. She pays heed to all, but especially that of Saix the sleepless. 

Saix? Saix does not Dream. He is a Nobody and Nobodies never do. But if he did, perhaps it could be something like this:

_ Bloodonhishandsbloodonhishands. _

_ Axel (Lea) at his feet, Lunatic pinning him there.  _

_ Children, children watching him. “You did this.” _

_ Regret.  _

Regret. But Saix doesn’t need to Dream. Not when that’s all he thinks, sleepless in the Dark. 

She passes by, a ghost in the night. A ghost he could never manage to see.  

 

Others of these ‘vessels’...some Dream, some do not. The Nobodies, of course, do not. But they come close sometimes, fragments of a past even they do not recall flickering through their sleeping minds like dying fireflies. 

Others slightly more whole...Nightmares are the norm. Chasing and hungry, these Nightmares always win, always devour them whole. Why?

Because they’re already living one, silly. 

 

Xigbar is interesting in what he has. That is,  _ Dreams.  _ Odd fact, to add to an already odd picture. He Dreams of everything and nothing, of stars and endless space. And once, a gloved hand held out to him and a voice telling him he can come home. 

After that Dream, she tends to stay away. It’s too...intimate of a thing to know, of someone she has never liked. So she lingers at a distance, passing through. 

 

A heart in the Dark, whose name she does not know. It lingers on, when by all accounts it should have vanished in the shadows strangling it. 

Dreams of an unbreakable promise and hopes under the stars...she hurries away, before she knows much more, but she wishes that heart well. 

 

Xehanort’s sleep, like always, is Dreamless. Empty. 

The girl, like always, is not sure what to feel about that. 

Except to keep walking and not look back. 

  
  


She takes a meandering path through a number of Dreamers, the majority she does not and will never know in person. A path that leads to a strange castle on a hill, at its end. 

There is a boy who is always sleeping in a colorless castle. An ivory tower, of sorts. When he Dreams, it is always of starry nights and laughter. Of friends just within reach. She lingers, sometimes, just to soak the extra cheer in. Other times, she rushes past before the tears can spill over. 

But her cheeks always end up wet after she leaves, no matter how long she stays. 

  
  


Riku is a bit more difficult, as to be expected. He’s far too awake for a Dreamer, restless and turning. Ready to take on anyone who may appear, friend or foe. Nightmares come often for him, drawn by the smell of anguish and regret. 

She lingers at the edges, shooing away what Nightmares she can. The more stubborn ones, the nastier ones? Those she can do nothing about. 

Those enemies...Riku must face alone. Should she worry?

No. 

She watches, a small smile on her face, as the ground shakes beneath her feet. As Riku manages to topple yet another giant.

Yes.

He’ll be fine. 

He’s stronger than he knows. 

  
  


Kairi’s Dreams are always sweet, in varying degrees. Sometimes it’s the aching sweetness of spun sugar, of ice cream eaten on a clocktower, as she Dreams of her friends and the bright future that awaits them. Other times it leans more bitter than sweet, a little Darker, as friends leave her behind, as enemies surround her on every side. 

In cases more Dark, all the girl has to do is call out, “Kairi, your light! Your Keyblade!” and Kairi remembers. Brings her glowing Keyblade out and vanquishes all who dare oppose her. Holds out her hand and pulls her friends, stumbling, in from the cold. 

For Kairi, she doesn’t need to do much. 

Only remind her of the power she already has. 

 

Inside of those sweet Dreams lies something more color than taste. A girl, who never got the chance to see much beyond the white walls of her cage. A girl, who was never supposed to exist, sketching out impossibilities upon impossibilities until her wrist cramps.

To her, the girl of Dreams always gifts her more pencils to draw with. Sometimes, a Dream Eater or two, ready for cuddles. It’s the least she can do when she can do nothing else for this sad prisoner. 

  
  


Second to last, she sees  _ him.  _ Same bright red hair as ever, but his tears are missing. Which his Dreams more than make up for, rain dripping and dropping from an imaginary sky. Soaks her through and through. Always  _ wrong.  _ Supposed to be fire and heat, not this drowning landscape. 

“Axel!” she cries out, “Axel!” 

He never answers. She never finds him, in the rushing torrents. Reflections of him, yes, shattered across this murky shadow of the World That Never Was, in the glass windows. But never the actual  _ him _ . 

In the end, she always to leave without accomplishing her goal. A pit in her stomach, a hole in her heart. 

_ One day _ , she promises,  _ one day.  _

  
  


The last is always both the best and the worst. 

Because it’s  _ him _ and it’s  _ not.  _ Sora sleeps deeply through the night, perhaps the deepest of all her visitations. 

Dark hair and not blond. His face is similar. Not the same. 

She puts a gloved hand slightly above his face, almost touching. But never quite. 

She never wanted this. Not for herself, not for her friends. 

There was no other choice. 

There never was. 

The Dream lingers, grasping and pulling at her sleeves like a needy child. Begging her to come back home. Yet she lingers, tracing his face in the air.  

“Good-bye,” she whispers out loud, not sure if it’s to Sora, to Roxas, or to herself. Perhaps it’s all three. 

“Good-bye.” 

 

When the sun peeks over the horizon, through a boy’s window, it shines its light on a room empty of everyone but the boy himself.    
She is gone, more delicate than the morning dew. 

Gone. 

 

“I had a strange dream last night...but I can’t remember what it was about!”

“That sounds right for you, Sora.”

“Always forgetting!”

“Hey, I’ll get it one day! I’ll remember what that dream’s about, I promise!”

_ I promise.  _

 


End file.
